


On Fire Tonight

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic, Holidays, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 14:24:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s pressed against the railing, her body turned towards the office instead of looking out to the city skyline like everyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Fire Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I warned you that I rarely write in season fics; welcome to summer ;) Many thanks to **spyglass** for the assist in deciphering my outline. 
> 
> Title taken from the Little Big Town song of the same name.

Pushing through the few remaining people inside, he starts for the balcony, groaning as the head waiter stops him once more. It’s the third time in as many hours and he grits his teeth, makes a mental note to leave Thea in charge of all this little shit the next time they throw a company party.

Because, even after all this time, he’s still not completely comfortable with all the nuances that come with running Queen Consolidated.

He has an unbelievable support system though.

One with quirky glasses, a sharp tongue, and unbearably kissable lips.

One that’s taught him that if he gives his employes little treats like a Forth of July party not only will they be happier, but they’ll be willing to go the extra mile if asked.

And one that’s taught him not to steal her last pack of Swedish fish for his afternoon snack.

(Though that was something else entirely.)

Finally escaping the tenacious little man, he steps outside, eyes immediately scanning the crowd for her.

It doesn’t take long.

She’s pressed against the railing, hair blowing out in the warm July air, her body turned towards the office instead of looking out to the city skyline like everyone else.

He can’t fight the grin plastered to his face, the blood roaring in his ears, as their gazes meet and her shoulders relax, the corner of her mouth turning up wickedly.

Soft, jazz-tinged Americana hums under the buzz of conversation as he weaves through the crowd, fingers flexing against his palm in attempts to stop himself from tugging her roughly to him and ravishing her in front of all their employees.

“Everything ok?” Her lips press together, hand ghosting over his back as he settles next to her.

“We’re almost out of crab cakes, but I think we’ll survive.”

“The extra case of wine should more than make up for it.”

“You’re willing to give up the whole case?”

“Well...” She shifts closer, eyes narrowing. "It is a really good Syrah; I’d like—”

The rest of the retort is lost—oh, and it would have been a good one; he can tell by the arch of her brow, the play of her fingers across the nape of his neck—as someone bumps into them and she nearly falls into his arms.

That it knocks her so off balance makes alarm bells blare in his head.

She’s not hyperaware like he is—no one is and he wouldn’t want her to be anyhow—but she is used to cataloguing every variable in a given situation. To knowing how to counterbalance when necessary.

He glares after the retreating woman until concern forces him back to her, question on the tip of his tongue.

It never comes because she beats him to it, her body leaning into his as she exhales slowly. “It’s the damn shoes.”

His hand tightens on the curve of her waist and then, before she even really registers it, he’s crouching on the ground next to her, slipping one of the offending heels from her foot.   

She sighs, wiggles her toes in relief.

It’s not that she’s not used to wearing them—the increased and varied wardrobe is one of the adjustments to being his other half that she’d accepted fairly easily—it’s that the arches on this pair just happen to be murder, that’s all.

Sliding its mate off, he stands, arm wrapping around her waist as he pulls her close. “I’ll grab some of that wine and give you a thorough foot massage when we get home.”

“I’ll have to soak them first. Who knows what kind of bacteria I could be standing on, there might be fungus lurking, and...”

“I think I can risk it.” He chuckles and presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth before turning them to gaze out over the city. “Look, almost time for fireworks.”

Grinning, she relaxes against him, her foot running up the back of his leg as her head falls to his shoulder. “I’ll say.”


End file.
